


Sleep Awake

by BlueMoonHound



Series: no halo [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Alteration, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, cycle 65 (referenced), lucretia has a bad sleep schedule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMoonHound/pseuds/BlueMoonHound
Summary: Somehow, Lucretia makes it out onto the deck of the ship – she feels grass under her feet, is she hallucinating – and the world tips. It's nighttime. It's dark. She must be high up because the wind whistles, did she leave the ship running? That can't do, she only has so much power, she doesn't have any other bonds to run it off- she's-- she's soalone, so alone. She stumbles towards the edge of the deck and peers over, down to the ground far far below. A city twinkles below her.There aren't any cities on this world.There's one city on this world.





	Sleep Awake

**Author's Note:**

> technically a no-halo centric drabble, but it can be read without reading no halo.

Lucretia wakes up and – no – it's time to move the ship, it's time to get out of there, she's been asleep too long. She looks around for her clock and can't find it – how long has it been? She stumbles, rolls off her bed and hits the floor with a thud that lends her an ache in her shoulder. She scrambles to her feet and races into the hallway, but it's too long for some reason it keeps going on and on. Her hand on the wall. The texture is wrong. Her fingers aren't hitting the bumps in the metal, it feels like solid stone.

Her body is filled with static. Her mind is filled with static. She's floating. She's floating and all she can feel is her heartbeat, wild and erratic in her chest.

Somehow, Lucretia makes it out onto the deck of the ship – she feels grass under her feet, is she hallucinating – and the world tips. It's nighttime. It's dark. She must be high up because the wind whistles, did she leave the ship running? That can't do, she only has so much power, she doesn't have any other bonds to run it off- she's-- she's so _alone_ , so alone. She stumbles towards the edge of the deck and peers over, down to the ground far far below. A city twinkles below her.

There aren't any cities on this world.

There's one city on this world.

Lucretia jolts from the memory, and she realizes she's – she's on the moonbase, she's fine, but nothing is _fine_ , she's not _fine_ , she's lonelier than she's been since that godsforsaken cycle itself. She moves away from the edge of the campus and rolls over, curled into a ball on the ground, and shudders on her breath. She wants to be Lucretia again. She wants to be the quiet woman who wrote things down and not the sly, strange being she'd become.

She shudders, quakes. Wet, hot tears chase their way out of her eyes. She curls tighter, grass tickling her cheek. She's too tired for this. In less than an hour she's going to have to make herself go back to bed. She might even fall asleep. She might dream of cycle 65, and of being alone.

“Madam Director?”

Someone's up. She's not sure what time it is. Maybe she went to bed early last night? Why is someone walking across the campus? She doesn't usually go to bed before midnight. Her thoughts are too fast, too many thoughts and not enough time to parse them. She blinks another bead of tears from her eyes and doesn't move, her heart audible in her ears.

Killian kneels down in front of her. “It _is_ you!” A hand hovers close to her shoulder, but doesn't touch. “Why are you up so late? I thought you were an early riser! And – Are you okay?”

Lucretia wants to say something stoic and clever. She wants to look Killian straight in the eyes and say, _I could ask the same of you_. She wants to put on her Madam Director persona and jolt herself out of this panic attack and be fine so Killian won't look at her with pity in the hallways at eight in the morning when everything is fine.

 _Fine_.

Instead, she chokes on an almost-aborted sob, shutting her eyes tight. So much for that. So much for the perfect ineffable Madam Director with her superior air and her unflinchingly straight face. She's not a boss, anymore. She's not a boss because she had a stupid memory and she got stuck in a year and she was alone.

“Can I touch you?”

Despite herself, Lucretia nods, feeling dirt rub against her face. This robe is going to have grass stains, isn't it? Why does she have to sleep in her clothes? Why does she have to wear so much fucking _white_?

Killian helps her sit up, and then sits down next to her. “Did something happen?”

“It was just a nightmare,” Lucretia manages, her voice cracking. “I'm fine.”

“What was it about?”

Lucretia pauses, tongue heavy in her mouth. She wishes she could tell Killian everything, that it wouldn't come out of her mouth sounding like static, slippery like glass. Instead, her mind lands on an easy enough lie. “The war.”

Killian lets Lucretia lean against her shoulder. She hiccups a little, feeling much better now that she's touching someone real and solid and alive. Not totally better. She won't ever be totally better. But maybe she can sleep tonight. That'd be good.

“You were right in the thick of that, weren't you?” Killian hums. “I mean, I was just a little kid at the time. But. You weren't, that's for sure.”

“I was,” Lucretia says. “I was right in the middle of everything.” There are still tears running down her face. How is she supposed to explain cycle sixty five without staticking out? “I… There was a time, during the war, when I was very, very alone. A whole year when I was alone and someone was trying to chase me down. They wanted to kill me. I developed…. A certain paranoia.”

“Oh wow. You must not like being alone much do ya?”

“I manage.” She's starting to regain her Madam Director vibe.

“Yeah. You should come out more. I wasn't entirely sure you were a person for a while. I thought you were a dragon. You seem older than your years.”

Lucretia chuckles, wiping tears off her face. She's tired, now. Fuzzy, but not in the static way she had been earlier.

“I've been through a lot.”

“Yeah.” Killian huffs. “Should probably head back to bed. Geez.”

“Why are you awake, anyway?”

“Well, you know, been trying to get used to the day schedule and stuff but orc circadian rhythm doesn't quite line up with the rest of you guys. Except maybe Taako. He's awake a lot. It's cool.”

“Elves are nocturnal and diurnal, right?” Lucretia sighs. “Or reverse-crepuscular, as Taako like-likes to say.” She has to watch her tenses. If she refers to Taako's thoughts and opinions in the past tense, it might raise suspicion. Not that Killian ever struck her as a detective type, but she hangs out with Angus sometimes. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Around three in the morning.”

Lucretia grumbles. “I should try to get a few more hours of sleep.”

“Do you do this often?”

“What, curl up on the quad and cry? No.”

“I mean, wake up in the middle of the night.”

“Yes. Usually I do. I don't think I've slept more than four consecutive hours a night since, well, a long time. I don't know exactly.”

“That's bad. I read somewhere that humans need like eight hours of sleep a night. Or maybe Angus said it. He probably read it somewhere, so, yeah.”

“I have a secret organization to run, Killian.”

Killian snorts. “Well I'm gonna go sleep. See you tomorrow, Captain Moon Lady.”

“Don't... call me captain.” That's Davenport's title.

“Oh. Sorry. Bye!” Killian rushes across the quad.

Lucretia watches her till she disappears. She sighs, pushes herself to her feet and heads back to her quarters. Exhaustion creeps up on her fast, now, and she's asleep almost before she hits her pillow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> _protecting me_   
>  _Protecting you_   
>  _Carving away our fingerprints out of our fingertips until they're smooth_   
>  _Lie awake, I sleep awake._


End file.
